#I am desperate for Ezra and Maul being a weird master-apprentice pair
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deniigi ¡ 2 years ago
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Title: eucalyptus leaves
Summary: Maul ends up taking temporary custody of a teeny, tiny, de-aged Ezra. He does the best he can while causing minimal despair and suffering (as these upset the worm-child).
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There are...many types of human formula in this convenience station. Rows upon rows of them, set on shelves that reach even above Maul’s head.
He must have stood there staring for too long because a human woman clears her throat next to him and asks him how old his ‘little guy’ is.
Maul doesn’t know. Ezra offers no help here. He is preoccupied making unhappy snuffling sounds against Maul’s clavicle.
“I just met him,” Maul lies.
“Oh? An absent father no more? Glad you bit the bullet. Finally a guy with a sense of decency around here,” the human scoffs.
Maul blinks.
He bit no bullet?
It must be an idiom? Probably Corellian. Humans love Corellian idioms.
“Can I see?” the human asks.
No. Maul has taken charge of this little grub and the last thing he is doing is letting someone else witness its defenselessness.
“Aww, what a cutie. Look at those cheeks. Mama must be quite a looker. He doesn’t take after you, after all.”
This human elbows Maul in the ribs and winks at him. He realizes now that she thinks that Maul has bred with a human female and produced Ezra this way.
Ma’am, he is just trying to pick formula. He did not come here to become an object of fantasy.
“His mother has abruptly removed herself from the situation,” he lies. “I have no supplies and am unfamiliar with human needs.”
This woman puts a hand over her mouth.
“She left you?” she asks.
Maul supposes that nodding is the best way forward here.
“What’d you do?”
“It wouldn’t have worked out. She deserves better,” Maul says.
“Oh dear. Oh, you poor thing. Probably didn’t expect her to leave the baby, did you? And who could have?”
Yes, this tone sounds like sympathy. Good. Now Maul can—
“How many do you have? I mean of the little ones with the horns? You got a couple, don’t you?”
Even humans can read ‘breeder’ on Maul’s skin apparently. Terrible.
“Only relatives,” he says. “Humans are much more...fragile.”
“That they are, hon. Here, he looks to me like he’s four or five months. You want the blue-top; it’s for up to six months. This one—not that one, no that one gave my youngest nothing but pure diarrhea for weeks. This one. It’s worth the extra credits, believe you me.”
Maul does. He will purchase the cannister, thank you. Now—
“You’ll be needing some diapers for him, too, won’t you? Aisle four, hon. Just behind this one. They’re labeled by year and month. Same with the clothes; but I’m afraid there isn’t much selection.”
Humans are at least methodical in their efficiency. Maul must give them this small piece of praise.
“Thank you for your assistance,” he says, still holding the cannister.
“Think nothing of it. You just got your little marshall there safe, warm, and fed. Bye-bye, boo-bear. Bye-bye.”
Ezra coos at being spoken to. He flexes a wet fist against Maul’s collarbone.
  --
The child is outfitted.
The child is fed. There is a device that humans have made with a rubber false-teat for this purpose and for all its ridiculousness, it serves its function exceedingly well.
Ezra’s presence in the Force grows content and warm as he is fed. His noisemaking takes on new garbled pitches and shapes. Finally, with enough energy to explore, he discovers the pin in Maul’s ear.
This is a mistake.
There is no longer a pin in Maul’s ear. He can’t remember ever having removed it since it was placed there, but that way, only pain lays.
“No,” he tells Ezra.
His orders go unheeded. Ezra wants to rub noses with him.
It is...endearing. Maul sighs—
--and catches the hand going for his horns. He bites it gently, and watches Ezra’s eyes blow wide at the feeling. An apology lick should soothe him, but instead inspires a torrent of high-pitched noise making and maggot-squirming.
It appears that Maul has hit upon several euphoric baby-texture-buttons entirely by accident. He tries to soothe the boy back to tranquility to no avail. There are now two hands desperately reaching for his horns. When one is captured, the other takes up the cause.
Maul ends up trapping both of them in a hand.
“No,” he says.
The biting is only encouragement. He’s going to have to start with reason and end with removal.
Ezra hiccups and begins a long, drawling sound. Maul rolls his eyes and releases the hands. They have forgotten their mission. Distress is upon them all.
Woe is the babe.
Woe is the babe for protection from self-maiming.
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